


Sofa

by Writing-The-Ghostbusters (writingfanfic)



Category: Ghostbusters (Movies 1984-1989), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 05:42:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13991682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-The-Ghostbusters
Summary: For the prompt: 'You help a very frazzled and shaken Walter Peck after Stay Puft, when he's covered in Marshmallow and needs to calm down.'...Peck??? You okay honey?





	Sofa

It’s been a very, very weird day.

First of all, you were just out shopping, when reports came in of an explosion downtown. You figured it’d been a gas leak or something, but then afterwards, weird stuff had started to happen - ghosts, you thought. It was all connected to those guys who’d started appearing on TV - Ghostbusters? You’ve never had to call them, personally, but after today, you can’t say you don’t believe in ghosts. Not after a disembodied hand had stolen your purse. Then - the real kicker - the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man had appeared and started trying to destroy parts of Manhattan.

You’re not really sure how to process that.

And now, you are staring at a guy, covered in marshmallow goop, weeping in an alleyway. You can’t blame him. You’d be crying too if you had to get a few pounds of Fluff out of your hair.

“Um… excuse me?” you ask, and he looks up - he appears to be wearing a business suit, and you wonder exactly who he is. “Do you need help?”

“No. I don’t,” he says, a trifle arrogant despite the situation you have found him in. “I… I…” He swallows, and then shakes his head. “Do you have any paper napkins?”

“…my purse has been stolen, but I live… literally in the building you’re crying behind,” you say, perhaps a little less tactfully than you could have, and his lip wobbles even as he scowls again. “Would you like… I don’t know. A hot drink?” You extend your hand, and then retract it as you realise you don’t really want to touch him. “I’m (Y/N).”

“…Walter. Walter Peck, from the EPA.”

 _Oh_. Government. You sigh, but you’ve offered help now, and you gesture for him to follow you. You suppose, in the aftermath of everything, you are doing your job as a New York citizen. You _suppose_.

* * *

You are googling him when he appears again, in a t-shirt and jeans that you have found from your brother’s clothing - lucky for him your brother has a similar build and regularly dumps clothing at your apartment.

“Well, Walter, you look a lot better when you’re not drowning in marshmallow,” you grin, and he rolls his eyes at you.

“Thank you, very much, for your help,” he says, still with that slightly sarcastic approach, and then his face softens. “No, really. Thank you.” He sits on your sofa, and you spin the chair around.

“So, what’s an EPA guy in a suit doing here?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“It’s those damned Ghostbusters.” You raise an eyebrow - they seem pretty well-liked, as far as you can tell. You don’t feel strongly either way, but the general consensus seems to be that they’re awesome. “I… they’re going to blame this on me. I know it.”

“…did you cause it?” you ask. You are very intrigued - somehow, the guy in front of you - who is quite cute now he isn’t covered in marshmallow goop - has managed to sic a giant confectionary-company mascot on New York.

“Their machine failed due to… my intervention,” he said.

“You really are from the government,” you grin, and his blue eyes narrow. “That’s a politician’s answer.”

“If not me, then an earthquake, or… a power cut.” His tone was sharp. “I was there to prove that their machines were hazardous, and I’ll be damned if that didn’t prove my point!” You nod.

“Well… Walter?” you say quietly. “I’m sure your superiors will recognise-” The scathing look he gives you stops your words. “Okay. That was stupid.” You feel a little sorry for him, really, although you wonder if you would knowing the whole story.

“I turned off their stupid ghost containment unit.” He shook his head, and you stare at him. “They… their entire mission statement was that they trapped and contained ghosts!” You bite your lip. He’s not exactly wrong. “And they were so… avoidant and…” He sighs, scrubbing at his face with his hands. “Rude. They were assholes, and it got me. You’re right. I messed it up.”

“Walter, I… okay, it sounds like you fucked up.” He blinks at you. “But… and I don’t know you. But I’m sure you had the right ideas behind it.” He shakes his head.

“I just wanted to do my job safely, and right. I knocked down a few blocks of New York and… I smell of burned sugar.” He shakes his head. “I will never forgive Peter Venkman for this.” He swallowed, and you feel moved to go and sit next to him and pat his shoulder.

“Okay. I guess you don’t want to be anywhere your boss can reach you until tomorrow,” you say, gently, and he shakes his head firmly. “So… would you like to sleep on my sofa?”

“Why are you offering me this?” he asks, and his tone isn’t confrontational - it’s cautious, and you shrug. “I just destroyed a large chunk of New York. I can’t believe that’s relevant to me. I cannot believe that is a sentence that I am saying…” He puts his head in his hands. “But it is their fault. A little. A lot. They could have proved to me that they weren’t dangerous, instead of… being Peter Venkman.” He shakes his head, and you pat his shoulder. “Ugh.”

“Okay. Why don’t you go to sleep on the sofa? And we’ll deal with this tomorrow,” you say, and he looks at you. “I’m used to dealing with things in this way.” He smiles a little, and you notice he’s quite handsome when he smiles. “I think people deserve second chances.”

“You are a genuinely good person,” he says, quietly, and you stand up. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

* * *

One week later, and you are just sitting down from work when your phone rings; you groan, and put your feet up, picking up without even looking at the caller ID.

“Yellope?”

“ _(Y/N)_.” You sit up, and smile.

“Walter, hey. How are you?”

“ _Well, I am calling you from the desk of my new office. I have been…_ ” His voice is disgruntled, and you sigh. “ _Allegedly promoted_. _Personally, I think it’s somewhere quiet they can hide me._ ” You coo a little. “ _But I still have a job, and I like to think that is because you gave me time to cool down. And my superiors_.” There’s a pause. “ _Thank you._ ”

“You’re welcome. You just looked… very sad.” You sigh. “I hope you’re doing okay, Walter.”

“ _Well… I was going to ask you if you’d like to go for a drink with me_.” You blink a few times, and then a smile crosses your face, unbidden. “ _If you’d like that. Consider it me saying ‘thank you’._ ”

“I’d like that,” you smile, and then pause. “Just… promise me you won’t accidentally cover the restaurant in marshmallow.” There’s a heartfelt groan, and you grin. “I’m joking, Walt.”

“ _I’ll… pick you up on Friday?_ ”

As you make plans, you sigh, and shake your head. You might wait telling your mother about this one out… for a while.


End file.
